Part of the Furniture (21 page)

‘Because I haven’t.’

‘Oh!’ (Why not?) Priscilla enjoyed this.

‘Will you give it to me?’

‘Of course I will.’

‘Why not come to tea? I shall be in this afternoon, come at four-thirty.’ Violet switched to affability. ‘You can do me a good turn. I have a large parcel sitting here for Juno, didn’t know where to send it. You will save me the postage. A friend of her mother’s brought it from Canada, very good of him.’

‘Canada?’

‘That’s where her mother is, hasn’t she told you?’

‘Oh yes, of course she has.’

‘See you at four-thirty, then.’ Violet rang off.

‘She was abrupt at school,’ Priscilla would tell Anthony, ‘hasn’t changed a bit.’

‘So who is this man Copplestone?’ Violet presently enquired as she handed Priscilla a cup of weak tea. ‘And what’s the place? Is he someone one should know? Have a biscuit. No scones, I’m afraid, it’s the war.’

‘A biscuit would be lovely.’ Priscilla chose a ginger biscuit from the proffered plate. ‘The place,’ she said, ‘is Copplestone House, the farm is Copplestone Farm and the village is Copplestone, too. It’s near Catchfrench in Cornwall.’

Violet said, ‘A superfluity of Copplestones. I take it the farm is large?’

‘Fair sized.’ Priscilla bit the ginger biscuit; it had been too long in its packet and grown limp.

‘And this Mr Copplestone would be—’ Violet allowed her unvoiced question to hover. Had Robert been to a public school, was he county?

Priscilla swallowed a mouthful of biscuit. ‘Copplestone’s in the Doomsday Book, as is my husband’s place.’ If we are playing
that
game, she thought, I can play it better than hockey, and was amused to see Violet’s expression of relief.

‘And Juno, my niece, is working there?’

‘Yes.’

‘I did suggest the forces, but I suppose what she is doing contributes a little something towards the battlefront.’

Priscilla said, ‘Of course it does, the country has to be fed.’

‘And does my niece pull her weight?’

‘I gather she works very hard.’ Priscilla accepted another biscuit. ‘Far too hard, if you ask me, for a girl in her condition. But I believe Robert is persuading her to ease up.’

‘And what condition is that? She isn’t ill, I hope? I was quite worried the last time I saw her, she looked dreadfully peaky.’

‘She isn’t peaky now, she looks radiant. It’s the baby.’ Priscilla smiled.

‘The
what
?’

‘Didn’t you know?’ Later Priscilla would tell Anthony that her feet had grown cold from the shock of her heart sinking into her court shoes as Violet said, ‘Don’t be ridiculous, how could I know? I haven’t her address. This is absurd, Juno isn’t married.’

Priscilla said, ‘I believe not.’

‘Then is this man, this Robert Copplestone, going to do the right thing?’ Violet snapped. ‘We are no longer in the nineteenth century, young men rogering the maids and getting away with it.’

Priscilla gasped. ‘Oh my goodness, the baby is nothing to do with Robert.’

‘Then who?’ Violet stared at her former schoolmate.

Priscilla said, ‘Who indeed?’

Violet said, ‘What on earth am I to tell her mother?’ Her voice sagged.

Priscilla had nothing to suggest.

Violet said, ‘Could the girl not have done something about it?’

‘Such as an abortion?’ Priscilla raised her eyebrows.

‘Of course not, that would be illegal,’ Violet sighed.

Priscilla, aware of having said too much, belatedly stayed mute.

Violet said, ‘This is just the sort of thing her father would have done. He was a conchie, she must get it from him.’ She repeated, ‘What am I going to tell her poor mother?’

Priscilla said, ‘I imagine that’s up to Juno.’

‘The poor woman has just got married—very suitably, I now hear, though I was unsure at first. She is happy. To be honest, my brother was not much of a husband. It will be such a shock. Not the sort of thing to tell your new husband, is it?’

Priscilla said, ‘No.’

Violet said, ‘What would you do in my shoes?’ She sounded rather pathetic, as Priscilla would tell Anthony when they met for dinner, but now she said, ‘In your shoes I wouldn’t tell Juno’s mother anything. I think I would just—’

Violet said, ‘Just what? Just what would you do in my shoes?’ She sounded as tough as when she had been captain of hockey.

Courageously Priscilla said, ‘Send some money for the child, send your love?’

‘But that would be condoning her behaviour and I don’t love her, never have.’

Priscilla said, ‘I see,’ and laid the uneaten half of biscuit on her plate.

Speaking as though to herself, Violet said, ‘She is of course “family”, one can’t escape that,’ squaring shoulders which had bowed from shock.

Brightly Priscilla offered, ‘All the best families have blots.’

Violet answered, ‘That’s the sort of comfort my lodgers dish out. I have friends who lodge with me, they have daughters and know what girls are like. I shall consult with them, though they are rather too soft-hearted.’

And bravely Priscilla ventured, ‘I expect they would, in similar circumstances, send a cheque,’ but this was venturing too far.

Violet snapped, ‘I hope you are not suggesting my friends’ girls would get themselves into such a pickle?’

Priscilla exclaimed, ‘No, no of course I am not,’ and then, ‘I am sure you are busy, I must not take up so much of your time.’

Violet, pleased at signs of departure, said, ‘I will get the parcel, and write down Juno’s address. I should know it even if we are not in touch.’

Shaking hands on the doorstep, she said, ‘Goodbye. I will think over your suggestion,’ and as Priscilla set off along the pavement, she called after her, ‘Sorry I dropped you from the team.’

J
UNO DRAGGED HERSELF UP
the hill from the river. She had grown too bulky to ride Millicent, and walking to the sea entailed effort. There was, however, a pool under a waterfall not far into the wood and in this she dipped on hot days, sunning herself afterwards on a rock, watching Jessie’s puppies dip their noses, sneeze and pat the water after elusive trout while she listened to the sound of woodpigeons cooing in the branches above her head.

The puppies were now quite grown, one brindled and one black and white, their origin a mystery since no dog in the neighbourhood resembled them and Jessie, a dumb animal, was not informative.

‘You and I, Jess, have much in common.’ Juno fondled the dog’s ears as she paused to look down at the farm. ‘Whereas old Nipper,’ she said, ‘is a proud and legitimate pa.’

There had been quite a rumpus when Bert had claimed Nipper’s puppy; Robert had been called in to arbitrate, smooth neighbourly awkwardness. Now the puppy was referred to as ‘the unexploded bomb dog’ but answered to Jupe or Jupiter, who Bert insisted must be a relative of Juno’s, and Juno accepted the compliment. She could see the puppy now as it lurched about the farmyard inciting its aged parent to play, getting snapped at for its pains.

A car was grinding up the hill; Juno could hear the crash of gears. ‘A visit from Mrs Villiers,’ she exclaimed. ‘Come on, dogs, up we go, heave-ho, hurry, she won’t see us if we go in by the back door.’ Quickening her pace, she lurched up the last of the hill to let herself in by the kitchen and climb up to her room where, out of breath, she lay on the bed to watch the sunlight play on the ceiling. She murmured, ‘How much longer do I have to cart you around?’ crossing her hands over her stomach, feeling the mysterious humping and bumping. ‘Oh, you great little footballer.’ Her hands fell away and she slid into sleep.

Downstairs Priscilla prowled the cool hall, looked in at the library, opened the doors of the drawing-room, so rarely used it smelled musty, inspected the dining-room, hardly used either, and made her way to the kitchen, which was empty too. ‘Everybody out,’ she said out loud and dumped the package she carried on the kitchen table. ‘Anybody home?’ she called and, receiving no answer, sat down to wait.

In the hall the long-case clock tick-tocked; in the sunlit yard a rooster crowed, hens clucked. Somewhere in Russia Germans and Russians were killing each other. Priscilla rendered thanks that she had no children; reading the papers and listening to the wireless was worrying enough. Time was, she thought, when I minded dreadfully, but not any more. Look at Robert, how he has endured Evelyn dying by slow degrees. ‘Oh, poor Evelyn,’ she exclaimed out loud, waking the cats by the Aga, who stretched like elastic, yawning, displaying needle teeth and sharp claws, fixing her with their green and yellow eyes, curling pink contemptuous tongues.

She remembered Robert, a widower at nineteen, father of a baby boy, a desirable young man who hardly noticed the child Priscilla growing up in the neighbourhood, to marry eventually one of his friends, a good man, a friendly man, but oh dear, so inclined to be boring and, come to think of it, his children might have been boring too. Boring, boring, Priscilla remembered, as she thought of her husband. I should miss him more than I do. Of course I miss him, but not as I would have missed Robert if I had had Robert. But then, she mused, if I had had Robert more than just the once, would he still have had that succession of affairs? Would I have been able to endure that? All those flighty and amusing girls? Better to have things as they are, Priscilla concluded, Robert very much alive and a friend.

‘Oh!’ Priscilla exclaimed. ‘I did not hear you, Ann. I have brought a package for Juno. I thought I would wait for somebody to come in.’

Ann said, ‘I saw your car. Did you want to see Mr Copplestone? He said he was going to look at the corn and decide when to harvest.’

Priscilla said, ‘Actually, I came to see Juno. I brought this package from her aunt—it’s from her mother.’

Ann said, ‘Fancy that. Well, well,’ irritating Priscilla by her tone, and as Robert came in from the yard, ‘Here is Mrs Villiers. She has brought a parcel for Juno from her aunt.’

Robert, deadpan, said, ‘I take it you sleuthed in the telephone book? Could not resist?’ He pecked Priscilla’s cheek, not altogether friendly or welcoming, putting her on the defensive.

‘I thought I would look her up.’ Priscilla plucked up courage. ‘We were at school together. I found myself passing her house. She lives in that nice square off the Brompton Road, so convenient for Harrods, the Oratory too, of course. I popped in, and wasn’t it lucky? She had this package for Juno from her mother and no idea where to send it. So she was delighted to entrust it to me,’ Priscilla babbled, ‘to bring down to Juno. I told her I lived near you.’ Priscilla paused to draw breath. Neither Ann nor Robert said anything. ‘Can you believe this? When I was leaving she apologized for dropping me from the hockey team. Did I say she was captain of hockey? Much older than me, of course, one of the older girls, and she asked me to tea. We had a good old gossip.’

Robert said, ‘I bet you did.’

Priscilla said, ‘She is a big noise in the Red Cross. She made me feel inadequate with my tiny contribution to the WVS down here.’

Robert said, ‘And the gossip was about?’

‘Oh, you know the sort of thing, catching up with the years. She married young and her husband was killed in the war, same name, he was her cousin.’

Robert said, ‘Absorbing.’

Priscilla flushed. ‘It was absorbing to me.’

‘And you told her her niece Juno is having a child.’

‘Well yes, I suppose I did,
en passant
as it were.’

‘And this Red Cross hockey queen was surprised?’

‘Well, yes. Juno had not apparently told her.’

‘And she expressed delight?’

Priscilla said, ‘I can’t say she did.’

Robert said, ‘Can you never keep your great nose out of other people’s business?’ A query which Priscilla failed to answer, for at that moment Juno came into the kitchen with a rush of dogs and Priscilla was able to hand over the package and explain its provenance.

Juno exclaimed, ‘How wonderful! I believe my mother has sent back my clothes. How absolutely super.’ Looking very pleased, she tore open the package. ‘Oh look, my houndstooth coat. Jerseys and shirts and a skirt, just what I need. What can these be? Nylons? Has anybody ever heard of nylons?’

Priscilla said, ‘They are American, a kind of silk stocking, I have heard of them. Those are very pretty underclothes, what good taste your mother has.’

While Juno said, ‘She must have bought them for me in Canada, how lovely. Oh look, I nearly missed this, a letter.’ Slitting the envelope with her thumb, she began to read. ‘I hope she is happy, I hope she is all right—’

Juno read the letter twice, then folded it and put it back in its envelope. Priscilla said, ‘Good news, I hope, from across the Atlantic?’ failing to read Juno’s expression.

Juno said, ‘Just—it’s just rather difficult to take in. Across the Atlantic my mother is having a baby, “a little brother or sister for you,” she says. I didn’t know people that old could! Oh my, oh my! Robert, why are you laughing?’ Raising an astonished voice, she said, ‘She’s practically forty! How on earth—Ann, you are laughing too. What’s so hilarious?’

Ann remarked that life did not stop at forty in her experience, but she stifled her laughter, and they all watched anxiously as Juno bundled up the clothes, biting her lip, safety-pinning her mouth against any further naive remark.

Then, brightly, Priscilla said, ‘Well, I must be off. I have left poor Mosley in the car.’

Robert said, ‘I will see you out, Priss.’

Then Juno made a little speech of gratitude for her trouble and Priscilla said it was a pleasure, and kissed Juno’s cheek before walking towards the hall followed by Robert.

As they left Juno called after her, ‘I suppose you told my Aunt Violet about my baby?’

And Priscilla admitted, ‘Actually, yes. I had taken it she knew.’

Rather stiffly Juno remarked, ‘She will prefer the legit relation in Canada,’ adding under her breath, ‘to its nephew or niece.’

On the doorstep Robert said, ‘You nosy tactless bitch.’

Priscilla said, ‘How was I to know?’ Getting into her car, she exclaimed with a bubble of laughter, ‘I believe you are in love with the girl, Robert.’